


An Eternity with the Auto Memories Doll

by Fopdoodle



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime), ヴァイオレット・エヴァーガーデン - 暁佳奈 | Violet Evergarden - Akatsuki Kana
Genre: Autistic Violet Evergarden, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Letters, Love Letters, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Reimagining, Writers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fopdoodle/pseuds/Fopdoodle
Summary: A rewrite/second draft of "Eternity with the Auto Memories Doll" where Isabella York admits feelings for Violet.
Relationships: Amy Bartlett | Isabella York & Violet Evergarden
Kudos: 11





	An Eternity with the Auto Memories Doll

Walls of brick and stone kept the world at bay, supposedly to protect the young women in the academy. But they held in the free and fighting spirit of Miss Isabella York. Not that walls were needed to hold her in. If she'd been any younger, perhaps the walls would be necessary. But walls from the frowning "father" held her inside. 

A few of the other girls in the school would mention personal attendants. Some were the best that money could buy, and others were refined, albeit cheap labor. It was clear that often times it was a response to a girl's misbehavior or an attempt to spy on them for their parent's concerns. Concerns that Isabella believed her "father" might have.

In the past few months since her arrival, Isabella had become accustomed to the ceiling of her chamber and the floors of all other rooms. In the mornings, she would stare above as she tried to move against the creaking in her chest. The empty, emotionless, whole of her being was without meaning. A hole in her heart dug through to her lungs, filling them daily with agonizing pain. She refused to say much more than necessary, per her "father's" demands. It was not appropriate and would be punished if she was not careful.

On the first day of her third month at the school, a letter arrived with a strict order. Get in shape to come out in society, or Amy would pay a great price. The letter claimed that since there'd been so little progress, her "father" had decided to hire a personal attendant to tutor her and tend to "minor tasks unbefitting for a lady in  _ good _ society." She returned to her room after classes to find a cot set up next to her bed. Isabella, curious to know who this woman would be, tried to deduce the linens' quality. It wasn't metal, but the sheets were from her "father's" personal collection. Since it came before the attendant, she realized that it was likely not someone from his household, but someone who was being paid handsomely for coming to aid her in becoming an ideal lady. This was a tutor and the caretaker that Isabella had at first been dreading, and she quickly realized she like the latter more. 

A light purple drove across the sky as the evening wore on. Fatigued from multiple classes that did nothing but tire her, Isabella watched a car drive from the gates. She turned away from the window as the door opened. She glanced from the side of her tipped-up nose to see a pale blonde head glide across the path. Isabella huffed as she looked away from the window.

Time passed like a gust of wind against the siding of a poorly constructed house. Terrifyingly long to perceive, but shortly over.

A knock at the door tightened the knot in Isabella's stomach. She slowly stood up and dusted off her skirt, grinning to herself at her thoughtfulness to lock the door to keep the school from entering her sanctuary. A sanctuary that had already been disturbed enough today. The smile faded as she slowly unlocked and opened the door. A few inches over her, she saw a brilliant pair of still blue eyes. 

"Are you, Miss Isabella York?" the young woman asked, shifting her suitcase from her side to in front of her skirt.

The gloved hands, firm and unemotional tone of voice, all of it painted what Isabella knew her "father" wanted her to become. Anger flew through her, difficult to suppress. 

"Yes," said she disdainfully, looking the girl up and down. "And you are?"

The Young woman placed her suitcase on the ground and curtseyed. "I will go anywhere to meet your request. I am Violet Evergarden."

Isabella rolled her eyes as she allowed the young woman to enter the room. Her stronghold was permanently violated, once again. 

"Do you need assistance of any kind?" 

Isabella walked to the window, ignoring the call of her tutor. 

"Miss York, is there any way I can be of assistance?" asked the girl with a raised voice. 

“I heard you the first time.”

“Then why did you not answer?”

This stuffy girl made Isabella want to scream. What was she? Some disgraced royal set adrift from the war? Who else would talk like that?!

“I will only be here a few months, so we will begin training in the morning,” said the girl. “It will be quite rigorous. I hope that is satisfactory?”

Isabella refused to look back. “I suppose.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the girl starting to grow frustrated for just a moment. But it was just a flash in the eye. Did she even notice it herself?

“If you do not require me, I need to bathe.” The cot squeaked in agreement as she placed her suitcase on it. 

Isabella refused to answer and waited for the girl to leave. When the door closed, the heels clicked sufficiently far away she jumped to her feet and began investigating the suitcase. 

It was mostly plain, aside from a stamp on the side with the letters “C H” over a crossed pair of gloves. Clearly, these weren’t the girl’s initials. At least not as she’d been introduced. 

Carefully, she clicked the unlocked latches and peered inside. A typewriter, several sheets of paper, and a letter were its only contents. The letter was unsealed, so Isabella peeked inside. She scanned it quickly before closing the suitcase to ponder the words she’d read. 

_ “-the renown Doll...” _

A Doll, it was strange that a Doll would be inserted in her life.

_ “-princess… Drossel...” _

Must be where she got her manners from. What was she to the Princess though? A cousin? A friend? A maid? And why would she leave that to be a Doll? 

_ “...Isabella York…” _

She drew the curtains with an angered rush. 

_ “-a regrettable situation...” _

And at the end, her “father’s” signature. 

She dressed for bed, her chest heaving as she pulled back her hair.  _ A regrettable situation? _ The man knew nothing of regret. He never would. She would be married off and out of sight before he knew it. 

Her anger overtook her, and she opened the suitcase again. From the top, she yanked away the letter. Spilling papers on the floor, she rushed to the fireplace. Paper turned to moldy bread in her hands, which she ripped apart. Feeding scraps to the flames.

“You have no idea what a regrettable situation is!” Isabella yelled into the flames. She then bit her tongue, remembering that the school was filled with people who would certainly report any unladylike behavior. 

She knelt on the ground, furiously ripping apart the few shreds that remained in her hands. 

The soft pattering on the ground alerted Isabella to the return of the girl. She dropped the last shreds on the ground and rushed to her bed. There was a soft knock at the door before it opened slightly. It creaked on its hinges, remaining open. 

“It is improper to go through someone else’s belongings without permission,” said Violet.

Isabella turned over in the bed so that her back was to Violet. Her lungs began to burn from the activity. She stifled the coughing fit for a moment, even though she knew that the dam would need to burst eventually. 

The door closed, and Violet moved around the room, picking up the remaining shards and looseleaf. She paused by the fire, where the last scrap lay. 

~~~

Even though Isabella was clueless about what the scrap said, it was clear as day to Violet, who felt a sting in her chest as she picked it up with a clink of her fingers. 

_ “ar Majo-” _

Even if he was never going to read it, she at least wanted to see the words. And now, just like the Major, it had been snatched away from her. Never to be seen again. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a second draft of an older work of mine. The first draft was pretty short and I wasn't able to do everything I wanted to do with it at the time.


End file.
